


Picking up the Pieces of Chloe Bourgeois

by krzed



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Bee My Valentine Chlonath Exchange, F/M, Romance, Season/Series 02 Spoilers, post-reveal, pre-reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 11:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13716840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krzed/pseuds/krzed
Summary: It's the end of the journey for Team Miraculous. Hawkmoth is defeated, and they all get to go back to their old lives. However, in a cruel twist of fate, Chloe doesn't remember ever being a superhero, and she doesn't remember the red-haired peacock she fell in love with.





	Picking up the Pieces of Chloe Bourgeois

**Author's Note:**

> This is my Bee My Valentine gift (three days late...) for cry-a-tivity! Hope you like it!

Chloé busied herself about the flower shop, mentally ticking off her list of tasks. Water this, move those closer to the window, prune these. She hummed as she worked, wondering when Adrien would show up to take her to lunch. The bell above the door jingled, and she cast a smile to the small woman with multi-colored braids who walked in.

“Hi! Welcome to Fleur de Vie! I'll be right with you.”

“Oh it's okay, take your...” The woman tilted her head and squinted. “Chloé?”

Chloé paused and set down the pot of pink carnations in her hands. “M-Mylène?”

“Oh! Chloé!” Mylène smiled broadly and shuffled closer, pulling Chloé down to plant a kiss on each cheek. “It's been so long! How have you been? Ivan and I haven't seen you since graduation!” She didn't wait for Chloé to answer. “Oh, you never heard, did you? Ivan proposed!” She held out her hand to show off a golden band set with several small stones of multiple colors. Chloé would have noticed that the stones matched the colors in the woman's braids had her mind not began to fog.

Mylène continued her story, oblivious to how Chloé's eyes seemed to wander, how her breaths came short and shallow though she fought to keep them and her thoughts under control. Why was Mylène being nice to her? Last she knew, she'd gotten Ivan–what was the word again?–akumatized. Why...? Chloé's eyes fell to Mylène's shirt and widened, images exploding in her mind.

She saw monsters, supervillains, heard screams, felt the wind on her face. And the buzzing. The same buzzing that accompanied each panic attack, like a swarm of bees just behind her. Her hand shot to the base of her ponytail, searching for comfort it couldn't find. It was this moment when Mylène noticed Chloé's panic attack and took a step forward to help. Chloé jumped back, bracing her hand on a table and knocking the carnations to the ground.

The tinkle of a bell replaced the buzzing. “Hey, Chlo. Sorry I'm– shit, Chloé!” Chloé pried her eyes open and saw a fuzzy blur of blonde coming near her with a significantly fuzzier blur of red beyond. “Chloé, deep breaths,” the blonde blur said in a soft voice. “Remember what Dr. Maison said: deep breaths, ground yourself. Do you need Mr. Cuddly? Is he in your bag?”

Mylène looked up to Nathanaël with her arms crossed over her middle, worried she was the cause of this. Nathanaël quickly filled her in on what had happened in the past three years, then asked what she'd done or said to Chloé. Mylène repeated everything she'd said when she walked into the flower shop, but when she adjusted her purse across her shoulder, Nathanaël saw the figure on her shirt and understood everything.

Queen Bee.

(#)

“Dammit, Chat!” Queen Bee swore with tears in her eyes. She waved her hand at the movie playing on Chat Noir's laptop. “How dare you make me ship a glob of marshmallow with a princess!”

Chat smirked. “I told you this was the most heart-wrenching love song ever.”

Plume Bleu wiped his arm across his eyes. “You didn't say it was this sad, you asshole!”

“Just to note, you two are the only ones crying,” Carapace pointed out before stuffing another handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“It's because they see themselves in the movie,” Chat teased. “Marshall Mallow is the chivalrous guard and China Princess is...well, a princess.”

Bee and Bleu turned to each other, then quickly turned away, red blooming on their cheeks. They attempted to stammer out objections, their words overlapping with one another. Something to the extent that they weren't in love with each other, that they weren't interested in each other. The rest of the team laughed at how flustered they were.

“Oh, come on!” Rena said. “Everyone can see the chemistry between you two! You even have a ship name on the Ladyblog: The Birds and the Bees.”

“ _We have a ship name_?” Bleu and Bee squawked.

The group continued to laugh and tease each other until well after the movie ended. They sat in silence for a few moments, enjoying Ladybug's homemade hot chocolate, when she said, “It's a bit surreal, isn't it?”

“What do you mean?” Bee asked.

“It's been almost four years since Chat and I became superheroes, and in that time our team has grown, not just in number, but grown together.” She fidgeted with her mug and said in a hushed tone, “You guys are honestly my best friends.” She turned her eyes out to the city, to the impressive horizon only visible from their place atop the Eiffel Tower. “And now we know where Hawkmoth's lair is. It's almost over. It...doesn't feel real.”

“I know what you mean,” Carapace muttered, his eyes on his wrist.

“I almost don't want this to end,” Queen Bee hummed. When her comment drew strange stares, she clarified, “I mean, let's totally kick Hawky's ass. No more villains, no more midnight patrols, no more scrambling for excuses to get out of class.” She set down her mug and hugged her knees to her chest. “But I don't want... _this_ to end,” she gestured to all of them. “Like Ladybug said, you're the best friends I've ever had. And I don't want this to be over when we...”

She paused when she felt a hand on her shoulder: a blue glove leading to a blue sleeve leading to red hair and a blue mask. He smiled that smile that never failed to make her heart flutter (though she would never admit it to his stupid, cute face) and said, “You're not getting rid of us that easily, Queenie. We'll always be friends, and we'll always be together.”

(#)

“For the last time, Nath, absolutely not.” Alya shifted her phone against her shoulder and continued writing her newest blog piece about American superheroes.

“But it could bring her memories back!”

“Or it could send her off the deep end!” At this point, Nino dropped what he was doing, strode into her office, and began to rub her shoulders. He knew how stressful this conversation was for her; she and Nathanaël had it at least once a month. “Dr. Maison said we need to keep her from reminders of her past as much as possible or we risk a total psychotic break.”

“I just...” Alya could hear Nathanaël's frustration. “I think she can handle it now.”

Alya sighed and removed her glasses, rubbing her eyes. “She's fresh off a panic attack, Nath...”

“You weren't there, Alya. It didn't last nearly as long as they usually do. Adrien got her under control in under-”

“ _Adrien,_ ” Alya interrupted, “still has to pretend he isn't dating Marinette! Adrien's wanted to propose to her for months-”

Nino's head perked up. “I told you not to tell!”

“-but he can't do that because Chloé still believes she's destined to be with her 'Adrikins'! Adrien...” When Alya continued, almost all of the fire had left her voice. “Adrien's been the most patient with her out of all of us and even he's starting to give up hope.” Alya shrugged Nino off and stood, walking to her window. She gazed out at the city, to the rooftops she used to run across with her friends. “I shut the Ladyblog down to protect her. It killed me to do it, but Chloé's my friend, even if she doesn't know it. I don't like it either, but you need to face facts, Nathanaël. We're not getting our Bee back.” Alya fought to keep her voice even, but hot tears down her cheeks made her voice shake. “She's gone.”

(#)

As a storm of ladybug washed over the city, six exhausted teens stood above a group of unconscious Parisians, freshly released from Hawkmoth's control, and Gabriel Agreste, freshly unmasked. Ladybug clenched her fist around his Miraculous, words failing her and failing her partner, who seemed to be taking the reveal rather personally. Carapace stepped forward and rested his hand on the feline's shoulder, brow raised. Chat lifted his head and blinked away his tears, nodding at Carapace's silent question.

“We should all go home,” Rena suggested in a quivering voice. “Get some rest. We can meet later tonight.”

Queen Bee nodded, wiping sweat from her brow. “Usual spot?”

Everyone agreed and took off in separate directions, though Chat seemed to linger a bit longer with the fallen villain before vaulting away. Queen Bee raced home, in dire need of a shower and some room service. She landed on her balcony and dropped her transformation before throwing the doors to her room open and flopping down on her couch. She rested her arm across her eyes and took in a deep, slow breath.

It was over. Hawkmoth– Gabriel, _Adrien's dad –_ had been defeated. It still didn't seem real. It still didn't seem like tonight, they'd meet at the Eiffel Tower and finally reveal their identities to each other. Chloé smiled at the thought. Finally, she'd get to hang out with her friends without their responsibilities constantly hanging over them. Taking Carapace and Chat out to her favorite cafe, treating Rena and Ladybug to mani-pedis...maybe...finally asking Bleu out on a date. Her face warmed at the thought, but her rumbling stomach told her she had more immediate concerns.

“I'm ordering some sushi, Pollen,” she called out, digging her phone from her purse. “Do you want a plate of those caramel croissants you like? You've earned it.”

Silence.

“Pollen?”

Chloé glanced up to the flower pot beside her bed where Pollen had made her nest. She stood and walked over, but no sign of the kwami. She called out her name several times, but still no answer. However, when she scratched the back of her head, she found the answer as to why Pollen was no longer with her.

Her eyes darted to where she entered her room. She searched her balcony, tossing furniture aside in her frantic search. She searched beneath her couch, ripped the cushions away, tore apart her room, but still found nothing. She screamed at Pollen and accused her of playing some cruel prank, but something in her heart knew this was no trick. Her heart knew this day would come eventually, she just wasn't ready for it so soon. Her tear-streaked eyes found her vanity and when she noticed the little black and red box was missing, she finally accepted the truth.

Her Miraculous was gone.

(#)

“Okay, Alya, you and Nino have fun!” Chloé waved to Alya with Ella and Etta on either side of her.

“You sure you're okay to watch the twins, Chlo?” Alya asked from the door, her purse slung over her shoulder. “They can be a handful.”

“Oh, please,” she dismissed with a wave. “I was twelve once. We'll just paint our nails, each junk food, watch The Devil Wears Prada...”

“Chloé.”

“Okay, Project Runway.”

Alya smiled. “Not much better, but I'll allow it.” She shook a finger at her younger sisters. “In bed by ten and don't give Chloé too much hell, okay?”

The twins nodded and ran off the play video games while Chloé locked the apartment door, her smile vanishing. With Marlena and Otis out celebrating their anniversary and Nino and Alya out on a date, that left Chloé alone with the only two people in the world she felt might be able to help her.

She'd heard Nathanaël's conversation with Alya earlier that week. Parts of it, anyway. From what she gleaned, Nathanaël believed the Ladyblog was the key to reawakening Chloé’s memories. What she couldn't understand was why Nath was talking like Alya still had access to the Ladyblog. Alya said her computer had been hacked a few months before Chloé woke up in the hospital. She lost everything, or so she claimed, and Nathanaël’s side of the conversation implied that Alya wasn't in much of a mood to share whatever Ladyblog files she had with Chloé, which left her looking for alternative methods of getting what she wanted. So all she had to do was bide her time, and when Alya and Nino asked her to babysit the twins, she jumped at the opportunity. Because what self-respecting little sisters didn't know how to hack into big sister's computer?

Chloé stepped between the twins and the TV, her fists on her hips. “Alright, shrimps!” Ella and Etta complained about losing some achievement in the game they were playing, but Chloé didn't hear it. “I will buy you each your weight in ice cream if you tell me what really happened to the Ladyblog.”

The twins looked to each other then back to Chloé. “Alya’s computer got hacked, duh,” Ella said.

“At least that's what we're supposed to tell you.”

“Etta!” Ella smacked her sister on the arm. “We promised Alya!”

“Our _weight_ in _ice cream_ , El!”

“Supposed to tell me?” Chloé's head swam, but she shook the feeling away and refocused. “What's Alya hiding from me?”

Ella gulped. “Alya just told us it could make you remember, and the memories could hurt you.”

“Memories?”

“Yeah,” Etta agreed. “She said you're not supposed to know you were Quee _mmmmmm_!” Ella jumped across the couch and slapped her hand over Etta's mouth, but Chloé could have sworn she said 'queen', and that was enough to spark something in Chloé's memory.

_A spinning top. The sensation of flight. Blurs of red and black, orange and green and blue._

Chloé's breathing hastened, but she grounded herself and pushed the anxiety back down. “Alright. I...I will buy you each your _combined_ weight in ice cream if you help me get into Alya's computer.”

“But,” Ella started.

“Look!” Chloé snapped. “I woke up in a hospital about three years ago only to find that, somehow, four years of my life are gone! If the Ladyblog can help me get those years back, then I don't care what happens to me!”

Ella and Etta both shared a sad glance. Etta nodded, and Ella said, “Her password is Rena Rouge. Capital R's, replace the E's with 3's.”

(#)

Chloé sprinted down the sidewalk. She couldn't- _wouldn't_ -wait for her driver to get ready so she took to the streets and visited every place she could think that the others might meet. Everywhere she went, she kept her eyes open for anyone who could fit their descriptions. She spent about an hour at the Eiffel tower, but only managed to spot Adrien and his friends. Her heart pinched, jealous that he had his friends and she didn't. She thought maybe she could visit Dr. Maison, the team's secret physician, but how would she prove she was Queen Bee? She'd almost exhausted all of her ideas when one more popped into her head.

Master Fu's massage parlor.

As fast as she ran, she arrived at the parlor in about ten minutes, but when she looked up at the building, she saw only boarded up doors and windows, some of the slats nearly rotted with age. It looked like it hadn't been inhabited in decades. She asked a woman passing on the street and she confirmed the property had been condemned about six years ago.

Ignoring whatever strange stares she may attract, Chloé pried boards away from the door, fought her way inside, and made her way down the familiar halls to the Guardian's den. No seat cushions, no wall hangings, nothing save for a half-decayed dresser that used to hold the old phonograph. Everything around her so familiar, but now so old and empty. Silence replaced the whistling of his kettle. Mildew and mold replaced the scent of incense and tea leaves.

“This is impossible,” she whimpered. There was no way this was the right place...unless whatever magic took away her Miraculous also transformed the old parlor into this rundown ruin. Or maybe it had always been a ruin, and some kind of reality-warping magic made it a parlor for Master Fu's purposes?

Chloé backed into a beam and slid to the floor, her hand to her mouth to hold back her sobs. She didn't care that her clothes were filthy with dirt and mud and cobwebs; all she cared about anymore were her friends. They would come. Her friends would come. It was just a matter of time, she just had to wait.

An hour later and no one had come. One hour turned into two, then three. All that time, Chloé sat alone in darkness, her head between her knees, her tears dampening the already waterlogged floorboards.

“It's not fair,” she cried. “It's not fair! They were my friends and I'll never see them again!” She sniffed and squeezed her eyes shut. “I didn't even get to say goodbye...”

“Bee?”

Chloé's head snapped towards the front of the building and caught sight of a figure shining a light through a hole in the wall. The voice, so blessedly familiar. Was it...Plume Bleu? Chloé stood, bracing her hand against the beam, but a wet creaking from above drew her gaze upwards.

The last thing she saw was wooden beams falling upon her before her world became darkness.

(#)

Chloé nodded, ignoring the pinch in her heart at the name ‘Rena Rouge’, and walked to Alya’s room, the twins on her heels. She sat at the desk and typed in the password when prompted. RIght there, on the desktop in the lower left corner, was a folder marked ‘Ladyblog’. Chloé had no idea why Alya would lie to her like that, why she would remove her baby from the internet, but there had to be a good reason, right?

Chloé’s heart pounded as the mouse passed over folder after folder. Rena Rouge, Carapace, Plume Bleu, who were they? Other heroes? She scoffed at the idea that Ladybug would need help, but her breath froze when she came to the folder marked ‘Queen Bee’. That sounded like what Etta had almost said. She double-clicked on it and waited as the hundreds of photos and videos loaded.  Chloé flicked through the pictures, her mind buzzing again. Something felt eerily familiar about the striped heroine. Her hair, her smile, her eyes.

Chloé shook her head and opened the first video she came to, labeled ‘Iron Maiden’. Through the shaky footage, Chloé determined Iron Maiden must have been the Akuma’s name. A blur of black and yellow buzzed above the armored woman with the same bee-like buzzing that accompanied Chloé’s panic attacks.

A few minutes into the video, Iron Maiden’s lance pierced Queen Bee’s side and pain shot though Chloé, coming from the same spot. She pressed her hand against it and muttered, “Adrien...said that was my appendix scar…”

The next video caught Queen Bee’s Miraculous about to time out. The hair comb in her ponytail, where Chloé often reach during her episodes. Why?

She clicked on another video, then another, each one feeling less like blog footage and more like memories. Is this...is this what Ella was talking about? The memories that could hurt her? She drew in a shaky breath and stared at the screen, at Queen Bee’s smiling face, though she felt it was less a computer screen and more a mirror.

“That’s...me. I...I was...Queen Bee.”

At her revelation, the memories came in waves.

_Meeting Ladybug for the first time_

“ _It’s not fair!”_

_Welcoming Carapace and Rena to the team_

“ _They were my friends!”_

_Helping Plume Bleu find his place after reclaiming his Miraculous from Le Paon_

“ _And I’ll never see them again!”_

_The last get together before they fought Hawkmoth_

“ _I didn’t even get to say goodbye…”_

_Finding out her Miraculous was gone_

By this time, Chloé could barely breathe and her head pounded with the worst migraine she’d ever had. Too many thoughts, too many memories, all of it made sense and made no sense all at once. It felt as though her own mind was attempting to reject what it knew to be truth. She fell out of the chair, clutching her head, panting, eyes watering. She fought to gain control of herself, but nothing Dr. Maison had taught her helped.

Etta would eventually call Alya who in turn called an ambulance. By the time paramedics arrived, Chloé was unconscious, trembling and moaning in a slumber from which no one could wake her.

(#)

Chloé opened her eyes, blinking rapidly against the too bright light. She smelled...the too-clean air of a hospital, heard the beeping of a heart monitor. When her eyes finally adjusted, she saw she was indeed in a hospital room. Sitting at the foot were Adrien and someone with her head against his shoulder...Chloé glared.

“What the hell are you doing on my Adrikins, Cheng?”

Marinette’s head jerked up and she looked to Adrien, who only looked back at her just as confused. “She hasn’t called me Adrikins in years.”

“Years? But I…” Chloé groaned as pain spiked through her mind. Years? That didn’t make sense. The door opened to her left and she pried her eyes open to see Nathanaël walking through with a look of relief on his face.

“You’re awake…” he breathed.

“What are you doing here, tomato-brain?”

His face fell. “Tomato…” His smile returned, however tentatively and he chuckled. “Queenie, you don’t have to pretend anymore. We know.”

“Queenie…” Chloé put a hand to her head. That name sounded familiar. How did she…

_A flash of blue. White butterflies everywhere. Blood, so much blood, blending in with his hair, where did the blood end and the hair begin?_

Her chest tightened, her breath quickened, her mind flared in agony. She convulsed in her bed and Marinette was quick to slap her hand on the nurse call button. Alya and Nino walked in, but sidestepped when Dr. Maison herself pushed through to check Chloé’s vitals. Elevated heart rate, blood pressure spiking, she called in more nurses and instructed the teens to leave the room until they could stabilize Chloé.

They waited outside for about twenty minutes before Dr. Maison stepped out into the hallway. “Is she okay?” Nathanaël asked.

“She’s stable, if that’s what you mean,” Dr. Maison answered. She removed her glasses and cleaned them on her coat. “As to whether or not she’s ‘okay’, we’ve yet to see. For now, I advise against seeing her until we can perform a full psychological evaluation.”

“Psych eval?” Nathanaël shook his head. “What’s wrong with her?”

“I have some hypotheses, but I won’t know anything until we run some tests.” Dr. Maison looked back over her shoulder. “I’ll contact you when I have a full report. For now, I suggest you all go home and get some rest.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “After what you’ve done for this city, you’ve earned it. And don’t worry, I’ll take care of your Queen.”

(#)

The moment Nathanaël received the call that Chloé had been hospitalized, he bailed out of his figure drawing class, swung by the Agreste mansion to pick up Adrien and Marinette, then sped all the way to the hospital. By the time the trio made their way inside, Chloé had already been admitted. Nino sat in a chair, clipboard perched on his knee, scribbling names and dates while Alya stomped up and down the waiting room with her shoulders tense and her phone in her hands.

“What happened?” Marinette asked when she got closer.

Alya scowled, not looking up from her phone. “Chloé somehow figured out I still had Ladyblog files on my computer and convinced Ella and Etta to help her get to them.” Her eyes softened. “It triggered a massive attack, she was unconscious when the paramedics got to her.” She growled. “I’m gonna kill those two.”

Nathanaël glanced down the hallways. “What room is she in?”

“303, but Dr. Maison just texted me and sai- hey wait!” Alya reached out to Nathanaël who sprinted down the hall, dancing between nurses and patients until he reached the elevator. He hammered his thumb on the call button, but when the elevator didn’t arrive fast enough, he shoved open the stairwell door and took the stairs up two at a time. He was nearly out of breath when he reached the third floor, but he pressed forward, quickly finding the signs to lead him to the correct room.

She lay propped up in the bed, several wires sprouting from beneath her dull blue gown and a heart monitor clamped to her finger. Even under the sterile white lights hanging above her, her hair glowed, fanned out beneath her. He slowly walked inside and took her hand, feeling how she shook and trembled. He stroked his thumb across the back, never taking his eyes off her face. He never even turned to the door when Marinette stuck her head in before motioning to Alya and Adrien to stay outside.

“You know,” Nathanaël murmured, “I argued with Alya for months, trying to get her to show Chloé the Ladyblog. I thought she could handle it. I thought…” He swallowed back his tears. “If I’d known this would happen to her…”

“You had no way of knowing, Nath,” Marinette said. She rested her hand on his shoulder, dropping her gaze from him to Chloé. “None of us could have.”

“Except I did!” Nathanaël recoiled at the volume of his own voice. He swallowed again and said, “Dr. Maison said this could happen. _Would_ happen. But I kept nagging at Alya, because I just…I wanted…” He finally allowed the tears to track down his face. “I just wanted her back.”

Marinette looked back up to Nathanaël. He gazed on Chloé as though she was his world, as though she was the only thing he saw, the only thing that mattered to him. “You love her.”

Nathanaël thought about it for a few seconds before he nodded. Yes, he did love her. He was certain he loved her even before their Miraculous had been taken from them. Back when he only knew her as Queen Bee. He loved her, and all he wanted was her smile back. Her laugh. That softness in her eyes whenever she looked at him and thought he didn’t notice.

He wanted _her_.

(#)

It was a full ten days before Dr. Maison called the former heroes back into her office. Ten days Nathanaël could barely sleep out of worry. Ten days they were all forbidden to interact with Chloé.

“I’m sorry this has taken so long,” Dr. Maison said. She glanced around at the five teenagers. “I...must admit, it’s still a little surreal seeing all of you without the masks.”

“Yeah,” Marinette agreed, glancing up at Adrien. “It’s...been an adjustment period for all of us.”

“Have you figured out what’s wrong with Chloé?” Nino asked.

“I believe I have Mr., um...Lahiffe? Sorry, I still know you better as Carapace.” Dr. Maison turned and grabbed her clipboard. “Good news is, she adores flowers, much the same as Queen Bee. All the get-well-soon bouquets in her room are at least getting a smile out of her. In less than stellar news, we ran the full psych eval as I mentioned, and when I got the results back, I forwarded them to a colleague in London to double check our results. He specializes in PTSD cases-”

“Wait,” Adrien stood. “PTSD?”

Dr. Maison nodded. “My official diagnosis is trauma-induced retrograde amnesia.”

“Trauma…” Marinette muttered. “You mean that bump on the head blacked out her memories?”

“The bump was certainly a contributing factor, but that’s not the key trauma in question.” Dr. Maison removed her glasses and continued. “Under normal circumstances, what I’m about to tell you is a breach of doctor-patient confidentiality, but I believe superhero alter egos fall well outside the realm of ‘normal circumstances’.

“Queen Bee often confided in me that she was lonely. Her mother left her at an early age and due to her own actions, she had few friends at her school. In fact, she viewed the five of you as her _only_ friends, and she confessed she wouldn’t know how to react if she ever lost you.”

“She did mention how she didn’t want our friendship to end after we defeated my f-” Adrien stopped himself. “Def-defeated Hawkmoth.”

“That also explains what I heard at Master Fu’s,” Nathanaël said. Dr. Maison turned to him and he continued, “She sounded like she was...was crying, and I think she said, ‘They were my friends and I’ll never see them again’.”

Dr. Maison nodded again. “She couldn’t mentally process being alone, so as a coping mechanism, she’s blocked out memories pertaining to the lot of you. She remembers Ladybug and Chat Noir, but her memories become muddled just before Mrs. Cesaire first became Rena Rouge. This would have taken considerable time but the cranial trauma served as a catalyst to accelerate the process. She now violently rejects any reminder of what she once had. Any mention of Carapace, Rena Rouge, Plume Bleu or even her own identity as Queen Bee triggers a panic attack.

“In short, she would rather forget you were ever friends than remember that she lost you.”

The group sat in silence, attempting to process this. Nathanaël was the first to speak up. “How do we fix this?”

Dr. Maison’s face dropped. “Amnesia is a delicate condition, PTSD even more so. Even the smallest bit of exposure to her old life triggers an attack, meaning any larger reminders could cause her to completely destabilize.” She turned to Alya. “Unfortunately, this is why I would recommend taking down the Ladyblog. If she should ever stumble across it...”

Alya’s eyebrows angled in anger, and she opened her mouth, but paused, reconsidered, and shut her mouth with a curt nod, eyes averted.

“I can teach Chloé, and all of you, techniques to help her cope with her anxiety and panic attacks, mitigate the damage, so to speak, and-”

“But how long until she has her memories back?” Nathanaël demanded.

Dr. Maison turned to him. “Weeks. Months. Years. There’s no telling when she’ll regain her memories, if ever.”

His eyes widened. “You mean-”

“She’s a child with abandonment issues who lost her best friends in the blink of an eye, not to mention the physical and psychological trauma she endured as a superhero. I can recommend treatments and therapy, but...I’m sorry, Mr. Kurtzberg, but Chloé may never be the person you remember ever again.”

(#)

Nathanaël had not left Chloé’s side since she was admitted. Hospital staff had since given up trying to get him to leave. Nino tried a few times, and Adrien offered to buy him something to eat, stating ‘hospital cafeteria food can’t be good for you’. Marinette did her best to collect his university homework assignments, but even with them in front of him, he couldn’t focus on anything other than Chloé.

He tried to hold out hope that she’d wake up, and she’d be back to her old sassy self. But each passing day, much like Adrien, he lost more and more hope. He spent countless hours curled up in a chair beside her bed, holding her hand, or trying to distract himself on his phone or the old as hell television mounted to the wall and perpetually stuck on mute.

Nathanaël blinked the poor sleep from his eyes and flipped through channel after channel of absolutely nothing until he came upon a familiar movie in progress.

“Hey, Chlo.” He squeezed her hand and pointed up to the screen. “Remember this? Legends of Oz, the last movie we watched together before we fought Hawkmoth.”

He watched the movie for about a half hour, until Marshall Mallow began to sing to China Princess. It was a song Nathanaël remembered fondly. The rest of the team teased him and Bee over this song, but he knew now just how appropriate it was for their relationship. Though he couldn’t hear it, Nathanaël knew the words by heart, and even found himself singing.

_Never told you,_  
_But I meant to_  
_Before I could begin._  
_Even then,  
_ _I loved you even then._

He turned his eyes down to Chloé.

_See my heart is_  
_Scared of places,_  
_That it's never been._  
_But even then,  
_ _I loved you even then._

_If my voice should_  
_Start to tremble,_  
_If I am shaking._  
_I love you now,  
_ _Like I loved you even then._

He kept her hand in his, and dropped his head. With his eyes on the floor, he completely missed Chloé stirring in the bed and her eyes flickering open.

_Even if_  
_It’s uphill now,_  
_Even when, there’s no words how._  
_When my heart pounds this loud,  
_ _Ev…_

He bit back a sob. “Even then,” he whispered.

Chloé licked her lips and looked down at the redhead clutching her hand like a lifeline. She swallowed thickly and began to sing in a strained voice.

_If I left you,  
_ _I never meant to,_

Nathanaël’s head snapped up, his turquoise eyes meeting Chloé’s enchanting blue.

_And I won't pretend._  
_Even then,  
_ _I loved you even then._

“Chloé,” Nathanaël choked. “You’re awake.”

“Please,” she said in a strained voice. “Please tell me you’re my pretty birdie.” Nathanaël couldn’t speak. She was awake. She was awake and she seemed to remember. She turned her head away and sneered. “No, seriously, please tell me I didn’t just sing that to some random redhead.”

He chuckled through his tears and kissed the back of her hand. “Yes, it’s me, my Queen.”

She turned back to him, her skin pale and devoid of makeup, her hair a tangled mess, dark circles under her eyes, but she was the most beautiful woman in the world to him. “I... thought I’d never see you again.”

“We honestly thought the same. What do you remember?”

She tilted her head, her brow furrowed. “Everything, but...the past few years feel like a dream. Was that...really you at Master Fu’s?”

Nathanaël nodded. “After I learned Duusu and my Miraculous were gone, Master Fu’s was the first place I went. I met the others there, and we went looking for you. We searched everywhere: Eiffel Tower, every team meeting spot, the cafe that had those honey-berry smoothies you were addicted to…”

“Ugh, shut up, you’re making me thirsty…speaking of, could I have some water?”

He smiled and passed her his cup of water from beside the bed. “Marinette suggested-”

“Marinette?” Chloé turned her head, then nodded. “Ladybug. Somehow I’m not surprised.”

“Yeah, she suggested we check Fu’s one last time. When I saw the boards over the door were torn away, I was the first one inside, and I found you with half the roof on top of you. We dug you out, got you to the hospital, and...well, you know most of the rest.”

Chloé sat in silence for a minute, trying to absorb all of this. Nathanaël scratched the back of his head, then said he’d leave to let the others know Chloé was awake. He stopped only when he felt Chloé‘s hand tighten around his. “Stay with me? Please?” She turned away from him, her cheeks reddening. “I...want it to be just us for a minute.”

He smiled and sat back down with her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

“Did you mean it?” she asked in a voice almost too quiet to hear. “When you said you loved me.”

“I did,” he said without hesitation.

“Even knowing it’s me? Even after how I treated you-”

“Back when you were a kid capable of making mistakes,” Nathanaël interrupted. “Chloé, I’ve had three years to come to terms with how you treated me. I forgive you, and...” he blushed. “I love you.”

When Chloé looked up to him and smiled, Nathanaël knew that if Chloé had ever smiled at him like that before, he would have known immediately that she was Queen Bee. “I love you too, Nath.” She gently pulled on his hand until he was standing over her, then lifted her other hand to his cheek, slowly guiding his lips down onto hers.  
  
_If I just knew_  
_How to show you,_  
_Let me try again_  
_I love you even now,_  
_Like I loved you even then_  
_Even then_


End file.
